


Cyanide's Definitely Legal A-10 Adventure

by SST_Laboratories



Category: SovietWomble - Fandom
Genre: Banter, Mechaphilia, Other, Tongue-in-cheek, stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SST_Laboratories/pseuds/SST_Laboratories
Summary: Cyanide gets a new "girlfriend" and the Zero Fucks clan gives zero fucks.





	Cyanide's Definitely Legal A-10 Adventure

"Okaaaay, okay. 18, Female, Cali. I'm not making this up. Said she'll literally abuse the fabric of space and time itself to fly to someone if they're good enough for her. And you know what? I know I'm good enough. There's only one Cyanide, and that Cyanide, is, well, the absolute best. That's me, and I'm so ready for her."

 

"Can you stop fucking talking about your new girlfriend?" mumbled Gambit apathetically over the radio; subtly out of character. Like the rest of Zero Fucks, he was tired of seeing the same exact thing every week. Cyanide would find a new girlfriend, then she'd just die violently later, spontaneously, and sometimes bloodily. They dropped like flies...

 

"This one's probably imaginary for all we know," chimed in one of the randoms. "How do we know you're not making this shit up to deal with grief?"

 

"Listen I'm not even sad," hollered Cyanide, heartlessly. "She wasn't the first girl I lost to the Tyranids. I can deal with this shit now. I've got a new one to look forward to!"

 

"I swear to fucking god Cyanide you're the only reason the Tyranids still exist in this goddamn universe," slurred a bulky Norwegian man over the frequency. "You're the stupid, teamkilling fucktard who keeps feeding them."

 

"You know I love those carapaces, I just wanna see one again, man..."

 

Womble chortled to shrug away the awkwardness. He then began a haphazard and only  _partially_ -joking rant. "Your dirty, interspecies, lustful heresy is going to tear this clan apart, Cyanide... You're the only teamkilling fucktard I've ever heard of cheating with xenos scum like that."

 

A few of the recent recruits mumbled unprofessionally into the conversation, noting the confusion, and asking well-deserved questions on how Cyanide could possibly survive his Tyranid affairs. They simultaneously pondered how he could even return to base the next morning without being covered in various alien fluids.  


"Okay, shut up, shut up. Listen, we're going to set up a great dinner outside The Greatest Digger. Tables, mood lighting, plenty of... of music. And I am gonna dictate everything this time. You're not going, to, sneak in and uh, 'CHANGE' everything like you did last time. You can't just call an airstrike on our fucking date night. That... that's just such a dick thing to do, man!" A nervous laugh escaped through the end of his sentence.

 

Then there was a respectful moment of silence as ZF remembered dropping 3 tons of cluster bombs onto Cyanide's fourteenth girlfriend;  _that_  time it uh, it actually had been their fault. That fateful night, by pure divine luck, Cyanide had respawned under the intensive medical AIDs service served by Womble... But his girlfriend was not so lucky. It was the Tyranids, of course. Band-AIDs don't exactly fix  _that_  kind of problem.

 

"She _is_  going to come tonight," said Cyanide, at the very moment he accidentally tripped a chain reaction of mines, disintegrating nearly half the hostages ZF had been sent in to rescue. He nonchalantly glanced over the damages before continuing his speech. "All the way from California. I'm telling the truth, I don't lie. You guys better be fucking ready because she  _is_ real, I swear."

 

Cyanide repeated the word "California" in several different experimental voices for around 50 seconds, before somebody gently told him to shut the hell up so they could relay more important information over the radio. 

 

"No, you shut the hell up," replied Cyanide.

 

"Nah, you."

 

"You," retorted Cyanide.

 

"You."

 

"My voice is softer than yours so  _by logic_ , you are the little bitch who needs to shut the hell up, not me."

 

"Uhh, guys..." whined one of the recruits in the midst of the argument.

 

"I had already shut the hell up before you started screaming about California,  _you're_  the one who broke the silence in the first place," quipped the random.

 

"UHH, GUYS, THERE'S A FUCKING A-10 REQUESTING TO LAND AT THE BASE."

 

There was a montage of reactions. Fear, angst, confusion, and vile, dirty excitement. 

 

"Whoa, isn't Cyanide on the ground? Who... who is _that?"_  nervously questioned a grunt.

 

"Yea Cyanide's one of the only ones who can fly, for some reason, so... Who the hell _is_ that?" screamed another.

 

The radio erupted into a loud, screechy and screamy, clustery crumpetfuck of panic, until somebody obtained the audacity to jam "Never Gonna Give You Up" at full volume over frequency, only to get kicked, promptly. Literally, by the way. For a few split seconds, a pre-recorded message was heard faintly through the chaotic frequency:

 

_User has left your channel. Then the user promptly received a full power steel-toed-boot arse-whoopin'._

 

"Dude, maybe it's my date?" asked Cyanide, with glee. "Does she  _actually fly a fucking A-10?_  Holy shit, I don't even care if that wasn't in the bio! That makes it even better!"

 

Everyone watched in anticipation as the Warthog buttered the bread on the landing. 

 

"Ohhh, man."

 

But... there was something off...

 

"Uhh, guys," spouted the intern. "There's... there's nobody in that plane."

 

"SO CYANIDE'S GIRLFRIEND  _ISN'T_ REAL!"

 

There was a slight pause as the listeners held their laughter. But their snorting and sniffling was soon interrupted in an untimely manner...

 

**"What the fuck did you just say?"** boomed an unfamiliar voice. (B-T-W just imagine Christopher Walken, Sean Connery, and Megatron combined. That's what it sounded like)

 

"Uh, who the fuck was that?"

 

**"Did you just say _I'm 'not real'?"_**

 

"Uh, what?"

 

**"I'm about as real as the possibility of you getting blasted into a goddamn splintery pulp inside my turbofans. You watch your damn mouth, kid. I am _the_  actual goddamn A-10 and I am going to fuck the guts out of  _all_  of you before any of this is over."**

 

_Oh my god,_ thought Cyanide, as he finally processed the events in his feeble brain. He reached a sudden and disastrous realization as he looked upon the 7' 600lb solid gatling-type cannon that the aircraft was mounted to.  _My girlfriend is... a... trap! I was catfished, AGAIN!_

 

He didn't really pay attention to the fact that it was a goddamn plane, and had no actual gender; but he just couldn't take his eyes off that huge cannon.

 

"Uhh," groaned Cyanide, as he watched a queue of clan members form in front of the idling plane. "What are you fucks doing? This is supposed to be  _my_  girlfriend. She's supposed to be going on a date, with  _me!_ "

 

**"Did you just say ' _she_ ' _?"_**  the warbird bellowed. **"My pronouns are brrrrrt, brrrrrt, and brrrrrtself; _thank you very much_ , biological  _scum_."**

 

Cyanide stood and stared silently, whilst fiddling about nervously in his gear. "Okay, uhh,  _BRRRRRT_  is supposed to be at the table with me, at The Greatest Digger, enjoying fine bagged wine, instant curry, and my clever retorts,  _all damn night!_  NOT here with all you dumb bitches waiting in a line for a turn to pet brrrrrt's GAU-8. That's just fucking gross. I'M supposed to be the one petting that gun."

 

Cyanide shoved through the line and approached the plane, screaming as hard as he could to be heard over the idling engines. "We're going to have a fun, PERFECT night together, and nobody is going to get in the way!"

 

Everyone watched as the plane taxied straight over Cyanide's ankle, bumped his head, and instantly crushed his foot into a gelatinous mess. Within the crowd, there was gasping, staring, laughing, and then that one guy in the back that creamed.

 

"OWWWHWHWHHWHWHHHHHHH- _OOOOOH MY FUCKING GOD!_ "

 

**"Oh. My bad."**

 

The plane took to the right as it left a squishy red trail beneath the front, offset tire. Said path was littered with bits of tattered shoe, pants, and toes... Cyanide simply hopped back up to his remaining foot and glared his fellow clan members in the eye.

 

"So. Not great first impressions. But I  _will_  make this work, you guys."

 

"You're gonna die."

 

"SHUT THE FUCK UP NO IM NOT," cried Cyanide, as liters upon liters of bodily fluids were discharged from the remnants of his heel.

 

...

 

Womble was sitting on the toilet. 

 

Today he was simply attempting to have a civil discussion with a pansy fuckboy on reddit; Womble had not a single idea of the unfortunate horrors to come later. A few minutes passed, and as the argument about the Emperor of Mankind's favorite color only _continued_ to heat up, he simply abandoned any hope, and began to wash his hands. 

 

After making use of the towel, he meekly reached for the door handle, and gave it a turn-- but it did not budge. He reached for the lock--  _but it wasn't locked_.

 

"Euh, what's happening...?" mumbled Soviet. "The door's... blocked?"

 

Then the realization hit him like a ton of dicks.

 

"Oh... oh no no no  _no_  NO NO NO NO NOT  _AGAIN_.

"OH, GOD..."

 

He began to claw at the door handle, like an animal. Technically, he was an animal. A Womble, right? Anyways... 

 

As he fought and struggled, the banshee scream of two turbofans grew louder and louder, thundering across the level landscape outside. These sounded as if they were headed towards The Greatest Digger... Womble pulled back the curtains, and glanced out the suspiciously placed bathroom window, to see a Thunderbolt II just moments after takeoff!

 

"Oh, no. The only idiot capable of getting me out of this place just flew his girlfriend out to the digger, didn't he?"

 

There was a slight pause.

 

"How the hell'd he fit her in that plane... anyway? It's a single seat! Did he stuff 'er in the ammo drum?" questioned the mammal, as he remained blissfully unaware of the situation.

 

...

 

Cyanide awkwardly exited the craft and motioned over to the digger. "Okay, up there is... The Greatest Digger. It's just like, the best digger, that ever is. So uh, yeah. That's what it is."

 

Then he pointed, using an automatic rifle, to the plastic table that was lit with dollar store prayer candles. "And that's where we'll be spending our wonderful night together!"

 

**"It looks... interesting. So when do we fuck?"**

 

Cyanide stared blankly, mouth agape. "Uhh, I uhh, well, there's some bags and boxes of wine if you want them, and, uhh..."

 

He placed his hands behind his back and began to sway back and forth, dizzily.

 

**"I didn't fly thousands of nautical miles just to get some shit wine pumped through the top of my nose, doofus. Humans are nothing but disposable bits of pleasure to me, and you fell for my trap."**

 

_Oh, fucking hell!_  thought Cyanide, again.  _Brrrrrt isnt just a trap, brrrrrt's a trap trap!_

 

"Well, joke's on you," mumbled Cyanide. "I've always wanted to make love to a plane, anyway." (Cyanide wasn't sure if this was a lie or not, honestly).

 

The A-10 began taxiing forward with evil intent. 

 

"ON second thought... NEVERMIND!"

 

Cyanide jumped back, and dashed underneath the table before promptly curling into the fetal position. There were tears in his eyes.

 

He whined over the radio. "Uhhuhuh, the date's not going so good..." 

 

Cyanide nervously glanced to the side, immediately met with a great view of the lustful plane crawling sluggishly forward over the terrain. 

 

"Like, I MIGHT POSSIBLY ACTUALLY REALLY NEED BACK UP RIGHT NOW."

 

...

 

Womble had been sitting in a pile of his own pure sadness, desolation, and pity for the last 40 minutes. Currently, he only had contact with one person; Cyanide. But he wasn't going to dare speak over the devices, or even turn them on, for fear or embarrassing himself  _again_ in front of his friend. Besides, he didn't want to interrupt the date night, anyway... 

 

But something felt off. Something felt unusual; wrong. Perhaps it was the fact that the bathroom in a military base had clean towels, name-brand soap, and an actual working porcelain throne. But maybe it was something else... Something told him that Cyanide might not be quite so okay.

 

This was a normal feeling, actually. His dates always go wrong in some horrible way or another.

 

Soviet resumed sulking on the bathroom floor.

 

...

 

**"A 5 dollar table can't protect you from a 15 ton jet, buddy."**

 

"YES IT CAN. I JUST HAVE TO BELIEVE!"

 

**"I don't understand why you're scared, man. Everything I put in my bio was nothing but code words. The government doesn't exactly advocate warplanes seeking love... so you've got to stay under the radar. Uh, pun intended.**

**"Come on, Cyanide. You know you love me."**

 

"YOU'RE GONNA BE SCARED SHITLESS WHEN A FUCKIN' BURROWING MAMMAL IN A USSR UNIFORM COMES OUT HERE AND KICKS YOUR STUPID METAL ARSE!"

 

**"Excuse me?"**

 

"MY FRIEND IS A TOTAL TWAT, BUT HE'S STILL MY FRIEND!"

 

...

 

Womble sat in solitude, twiddling his fingers and anxiously adjusting his ushanka.

 

"Jesus Christ, I've got to do something before I go mad... I don't give a shit what happens anymore. I must escape this tiled plumbing hell!"

 

Womble reluctantly activated his outdated electric gear, and tuned it in to Cyanide's horrifying conversation with the airplane deviant.

 

**"Come on man, get back inside me-- er, my cockpit."**  


"NO. I AM A DIGNIFIED AND RESPECTABLE INDIVIDUAL AND I REFUSE! THIS IS HARASSMENT!"

 

**"You don't even want seven barrels of solid metal right up through your gut, kiddo? You feel it in your ribs, man. Crunchy."**

 

"DEFINITELY! NOT! NOPE.  _NOPE._ "

 

**"I'll take you out for dinner, dude. A real dinner at a real diner. There's one past the hills, near the river, real nice place I tell you what, they're really tolerant: even if you maul everybody there into a bloody pulp with a raging flurry of solid depleted uranium, they don't even fucking care. Really nice people, good catfish."**

 

"I HATE CATFISHING!" screamed Cyanide, tears cascading down his face.

 

**"Hot dogs, WD40, and milkshakes, then?"**

 

"ARE THOSE CODE WORDS? IT SOUNDS LIKE A CODE WORD. YOUR TONE IS SUGGESTING THAT THOSE ARE CODE WORDS."

 

**"Uhh... yea they're code words."**  


"I AM GOING TO ASSUME IT IS CODE FOR BUTT STUFF AND SO I POLITELY REFUSE."

 

_"Uh, did fucking Megatron just offer you anal?"_

 

"SOVIET?! IS THAT YOU?!"

 

_"Uh, yeah it's... uh, who the hell was that?"_

 

"That's my brrrrtfriend."

 

_"Your what now?"_

 

"This fucking plane is trying to fucking fuck me, dude!"

 

_"Well that's inconvenient but... I'm, well, I need a bit of, help right now. I can tell you're busy, so you don't have to rush; but uhh, please don't forget about me. It's fine."_

 

**"Sounds like it's not so fine."**

 

"Oh, so SOVIET needs help?"

 

_"Yes. For a lot of reasons."_

 

"Listen man I'm just trying to keep a giant rotary autocannon out of my arsehole right now."

 

_"Is it really that difficult to avoid such a circumstance?"_

 

"YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA."

 

**"There is very little standing between me and a glorious Cyanide slush."**

 

_"Well that's disconcerting. Okay._

_"Cyanide, how the FUCK did you end up with THAT brutish horror as your girlfriend? I'm... I'm assuming the A-10 is your girlfriend, now."_

 

"I don't even remember man, I just want it to fucking stop.

"Oh by the way, that purchase was totally worth it! I _told_ you it would pay off! This cheap bitch table is currently holding up to 9000 kilograms of plane dry humping it repeatedly."

 

_"Oh. That's... Damn. That's impressive."_

 

"You know uhh, maybe YOU can help ME for once?"

 

_"I uhh, I actually can't... at the moment..."_

 

"WHY

"THE

"FUCK

"NOT?"

 

_"I'm locked in the bathroom. Again."_

 

"OH. YOU'RE JOKING."

 

_"Nope."_

 

**"So that means I can fuck both of you?"**

 

_"NO."_   "NO."

**"Well okay then."**

 

_"Actually, if you can get me out of this bathroom, we'll... I'll make you a deal."_

 

"I smell bamboozles!"

 

_"SHUT THE FUCK UP CYANIDE._

_"I promise, I'll, uh, I'll make love... er... Ew. Oh god I can't even say it. Eh, you know what I mean."_

 

**"Mate, it's not a promise if you don't say it."**

 

_"Listen, you titanium thundercunt, I'm a humanoid burrowing mammal from a children's program, dressed head to heel in a vintage Soviet Union uniform. I'm not even sure if any of this is legal. I'm not giving you consent for ANYTHING until we talk to the higher-ups and establish a new basis of law for warplane and womble intercourse."_

 

**"Is legality even a concern, anymore?"**

 

_"..."_

 

"IT'S REALLY HOT OVER HERE."

 

**"Yeah bitch, you like it?"**

 

"NO I DON'T LIKE IT, I WANT TO PUKE."

 

Suddenly, the sound of 130 miniature sonic booms echoed through the radio. It was the screaming purr of a glorious, pristine, and well executed gatling cannon climax.

 

_"MAWP."_

 

"OH MY GOD I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING!"

 

_"MAWP."_

 

**"Sorry guys I... I uhh, got a bit too excited. That was... premature."**

 

"WHAT!?"

 

_"MAWP!"_

 

"THIS IS FUCKING HOPELESS."

 

**"Tell me about it."**

 

_"MAWP!"_

 

**"Okay now you've said that too many times and it's not funny anymore."**

 

_"MAWP?"_

 

"I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO HEAR EDBERG SING AGAIN! THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

 

**"You know what? I'm... I'm just fucking done. I'll just fuck Tyranids instead."**

 

_"Oh my god..."_

 

"Oh hey, my hearing's back! Cool."

 

_"What?"_

 

"I dunno dude, it's a miracle!"

 

_"The creamy gun run... It hit the bathroom door!"_

 

"WHAT?"

 

_"When the jet came the fucking bullets blasted the entire door out with high explosive! I'M FUCKING FREE!"_

 

*boop* 

"Ehhhh, this is, Crossroads... Soviet you're uhhhh, you're on cleaning duty. Staaaarting... now. Right now. Clean up all that radioactive H.E. semen, okay? Also fuck you." 

*boop*

 

_"Oh you've got to be fucking kidding me."_

 

"I WIN!"

**~Fin~**


End file.
